Empty House
by we are eternal
Summary: Old memories haunt me.


Empty House

_Old memories haunt me._

-Priscilla Ahn

Korra/Asami, Mako/Asami

i.

Asami loved the little things. Getting her hair done, lemon in her morning tea, sand sticking to the soles of her feet, the sea breeze clinging to her porcelain skin ("Your skin is so soft," Mako whispered, crowding her lips, her neck and shoulders with his fervent mouth).

She held onto them tightly, wanting the touch, the smell to bury themselves in her memory. To be her friend, her strength, to remind her that there was a light at the end of the tunnel and it was not the oncoming train (her lithe body sleeping on the tracks) but nothing stayed with her.

She used to walk hand in hand with her mother. When she was a little girl and the world seemed so big. Everyone was a giant, their footfalls earthquakes and her mother was the only other of her fay kind, guiding her through the destruction.

She knew to hold on with both hands; a good heart and an open mind. Her mother left her with the softest words. But no matter how hard her grip, everything slipped through her fingers like the ashes of her mother on the great room floor.

When she was a little girl she lost her mother and the shock of it made her a woman. She had a box of ashes to put in the earth and say goodbye to. She lost her father when she was a woman and it sent her speeding back to little girlhood. He was still alive and yet he felt deader to her than her mother.

She had rooms and rooms; skeletons in every closet, poison lies flooding under her feet to remember him by. Three, two, down to one in a house that was always too big—selfish, grandeur. It might as well have been empty for all the treasures in it were worthless. It might as well have been burning, black smoke drifting upward and hiding the stars from her for all she cared. "Home", that word was a joke to her now.

Mako only had a scarf to remember his parents by. It didn't smell of them, it didn't feel as soft as it once had when he picked it up and brushed off the last cinders of their bodies, but it was real to him. It was his fortress and she breathed shallowly, careful of every word she spoke around him with envy.

Asami loved the little things. Her father kissed her forehead, "Goodnight, princess.", "Tell me again.", "I love you." Her mother tucked her in for the last time.

She thought she had so many more nights with them; so many more three little words that she would grow to hate and be embarrassed by in her teen years.

But no moment was the same, no moment came twice.

ii.

It was so loud on Air Temple Island. From the start of the day, the sun piercing the fat too-happy-for-this early clouds and shining through to the end of it when the goodnight bugs sang and Republic City twinkled in the distance.

Jinora, Ikki, and Meelo-Asami learned those names fast with them bouncing around her, Jinora and Ikki particularly obsessed with her long locks and Meelo taking naps in her lap when opportunity revealed itself-tried to cheer her up with their stories, told to her faster than lightning and out of her brain even faster, and their pulled faces. They knew, they all swore they knew with their smiles and "take it easy" what she was going through. They thought she was sad. She wasn't sad. She was angry.

Asami and Korra were always first to rise, last to close their eyes.

"Did I wake you?" There was no waver of an apology in her voice.

"No, I-it's stupid, I wanted to watch the sun come up." Asami smiled, sunshine rolling over her like waves.

"So did I," said Korra, but her eyes had never been more grounded, more intent on staring at a two armed, two legged creature until now.

With Mako she felt safe, not the security money could buy, but the comfort of being in the presence of someone who cared, but there was a tremor of her heart when she found herself looking into Korra's eyes. It was like the all the bad in her life was being washed away. Asami only felt like that when she was on her bike, driving through apparitions of her past with a cold rage that made her grip the throttle and push down on the accelerator. She caught herself quickly when she did it, always looking away, feigning innocent like she did so well. Asami had never felt like with anyone before and she was glad for it. It was a horrible feeling. Anyone who wanted to feel that way was either daft or a masochist.

That feeling of relief and dependency (excitement and freedom) belonged to the open road and not in a single glance to a girl she barely knew.

iii.

"You don't have to pretend with me." Mako would say at night when they were lying in bed. She felt like he had said those words before. He hadn't. It was just a look that lingered between them. He was trying to draw out some truth from her that wasn't there. "Whatever you're feeling you can tell me,"

"I know," There was that dreaded pause, "I'm fine."

When he fell asleep Asami would slink from the room, whatever guilt she felt carrying her farther away from him. Even though Mako was deep in slumber, dreaming that his parents were alive and Asami was unmarked by loss and betrayal and still curled up in his arms, he would reach for her and caress the sheets that were already losing the warmth of her.

"You still up?" Korra chuckled. "You want something to drink?"

"I'll have whatever you're having." Asami slumped down beside Korra.

"That's brave. I could be drinking spirits-only-knows-what."

"Mm, true, but you don't really seem the type. Besides, it might help me sleep."

"Oh, what do I seem like?" Korra asked, starting to grin.

"Really I was a bit jealous of you. Mako couldn't shut up about you."

_Jealous of me?_ Korra had felt the same towards Asami.

Asami sipped her tea. It was good tea, she had to admit.

"What did you think of me when you first saw me, other than that 'prissy' comment?"

"I didn't know you and that hasn't changed much, except now I know you can kick ass and boy, can you drive."

"How did you and Mako meet again?"

Asami let out an airy laugh she didn't know she was capable of anymore. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

The laughter died, slowly like the embers of a fire, and there was silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was just there. She hadn't known that silence since her mother was alive.

"That can change, Korra, us knowing each other."

"I'd like that."


End file.
